


Spellbound Hearts

by Strangeredlantern, Vague_Shadows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Civil War, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Bitetime Fest, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Endings, M/M, Remember this is a reincarnation fic and thus the MCD tag, Spells & Enchantments, eventual sexytimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strangeredlantern/pseuds/Strangeredlantern, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vague_Shadows/pseuds/Vague_Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She disappears to the attic, the only space she can be alone, and sets about her work.  There was far too much untimely death today, too much to be set right by one banshee with a bit of hoodoo at her disposal, but she can do a little.  These two had a story, one that wasn’t nearly finished, and they deserve to have the chance to do it right..." </p><p>Or, the AU where Lydia's great-great grandmother puts things in motion for some Derek/Isaac reincarnation angst & fluff</p><p>For the Bitetime Fest prompt for "Midnight Bayou": A lawyer buys a haunted plantation they've always been drawn to, and uncovers a shocking secret...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue  - Summer 1864

 

**"I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…**

**In life after life, in age after age, forever.**

**My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,**

**That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,**

**In life after life, in age after age, forever."**

**―[Rabindranath Tagore](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/36913.Rabindranath_Tagore), [Selected Poems](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2086297)**

 

* * *

 

  **Prologue**  - Summer 1864   

It’s been more than a day since the men in grey arrived to inform Natalie that her home, Manet Hall, was to be used as a field hospital for the imminent battle.  She hadn’t been all that surprised to see them. The omens of death had been clear; the war had arrived on her doorstep, like these souls were drawn to the banshee’s estate to meet their doom.

Even if she were entirely human, this hellish scene would be more than enough to overwhelm her senses.  She’s lost count now of how many men have come in--filling every inch of space available until it seems she can barely move without hitting another person.  They scream in agony as doctors and nurses try to patch together their broken bodies and hack away limbs too mangled to save.  The stench of death hangs heavy in the air--blood and sweat and decay--so intense she can almost taste the iron in their blood.  She’s watched the light of life leave the eyes of more young men than she can count.

And yet, for some reason, there is one man who continually draws her attention away from the rest of the chaos.  He’s in the east corner of the parlor, under the window, bleeding out slowly onto her fine, imported rug.  He’ll die before the sun sets; she’s sure of it.  All they can do is attempt to make him comfortable--at least until the morphine runs out.  She wades through the chaos and sits next to his bedside, mops his brow with a damp cloth and wipes away the trickle of blood on the corner of his lips.  His eyes never open, but he murmurs, “Isaac,” the same name he’s been repeating since the moment they brought him here.  

The second man to grip her attention is hardly a man at all--still a boy really, no more than seventeen.  He comes in quietly- a few hours after Natalie has tried to distance herself from the dying man. His head is down as he limps through the sea of wounded, searching their faces while he tries to hide his shaking hands.  Somehow, She's not surprised at all when he falls to his knees beside the first man and with tears pouring from his eyes.  He tries to rouse his friend to no avail, getting more and more frantic until she can hear him begging, “Please, Derek, please wake up! I’m so sorry, Derek! _Please_!”

Derek’s eyes flutter open eventually, and he smiles sweetly up at his friend.  Though she can’t hear the words from across the room, she sees his lips move to form, “Isaac.”  Seconds later Derek’s eyes flutter closed again and don’t reopen, no matter how Isaac pleads.  

“Not like this, Derek! Not like this!”

The heart-wrenching scene draws the attention of more than just Natalie.  The tone of it all changes drastically when one of the local women who’s been serving as an orderly declares, “I know you! You’re Ezra Lahey’s boy!”

“Who the hell let a yank in here?!”

“Get him!”

“Somebody shoot that goddamn bluebelly!”

“You’re a traitor!”

“Traitor!”

“String ‘im up!”

“Grab ‘im!”

There’s no stopping the mob that traps the boy.  There’s no logic or reason left in these war-torn souls, not today.  He was dead the second he set foot among the confederates, and the boy must have known it.  He apparently thought the need to find Derek more important than the risk of death.   That depth of loyalty is rare, and Natalie can’t help but feel it has something to do with the reason she was drawn to these two rather than any of their cohorts.

And so, long after the mob dissipates, she goes to collect what she needs from the two corpses, a bit of blood, locks of hair.  She disappears to the attic, the only space she can be alone, and sets about her work.  There was far too much untimely death today, too much to be set right by one banshee with a bit of hoodoo at her disposal, but she can do a little.  These two had a story, one that wasn’t nearly finished, and they deserve to have the chance to do it right.  This is one, small thing that can cast a glimmer of light into the darkness of the past day, and Natalie is going to act on the impulse.

“You sure you wanna do that, Natalie?” Meredith wonders, startling her with the sudden intrusion.  “You know they--”

“I know.”

“Might mean it’s long time before those souls get any peace.”

“You really think they’d have any true peace after everything that happened today if I don’t do this? I have to do something.  There’ll be enough souls haunting this place as it is.  I can’t help them all, but at least I can help two of them.”

“You can try, but--”

“I know,” Natalie repeats.  “I know what I’m doing, Meredith.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.”

 _Me too_ , Natalie adds silently as she sets back to her spellwork.

 

 


	2. Chapter 1 - Fall 1960

**CHAPTER 1 - FALL 1960**

 

 

 

**Isaac walks into the dorm with nothing but a backpack and a duffle bag.  He still can’t believe he managed to get a spot at Harvard Law.  He’s dreamt about it for years, but the idea of coming this far after everything that’s happened...it’s incredible.  Six years ago, he was battered and bruised and hopeless: after enduring years of hell from his father, Isaac hit the breaking point the night he realized Dad really was going to kill him some day; he finally fought back for his life, and was unsurprisingly arrested for stabbing his father in a moment of pure desperation.**

**He’d supposed prison couldn’t be much worse than living with Dad, but then the lawyer the state appointed, Mr. Stilinski, fought for Isaac like no one had ever fought before--not Mom, not his brothers--even with Dad there in the courtroom, stitched up and insisting what a demonic and disappointing son Isaac was--Stilinski never gave up.  Instead he painted a picture of the truth, made the judge and the people on the jury understand that Isaac was fighting for his life.  He kept Isaac out of prison, and made damn sure Dad would never be able to hurt him again.**

**He saved Isaac’s life.**

**And now, Isaac’s going to learn enough to get back down there and save the next kid’s.  He worked his ass off at Penn State to get admitted here, and he’s not going to waste it.  Seems like the more news he hears the more certain it is that there are people out there who need help--good people caught in impossible situations.  The kind that the law should protect, not punish.  Isaac’s going to help as many of them as he possibly can; at least that’s the plan; if he doesn’t fall flat on his face the first day of classes with all these kids who _look_ the part more than Isaac could ever hope to.**

**“Knock, knock?” a voice says, bringing Isaac back from his reminiscing.**

**He turns to see a young black man standing in the doorway of the dorm room.  He smiles uncertainly and holds up the suitcase in his hand.**

**“Are you Lahey?” he wonders with enough of a drawl in his voice to give away some southern roots.**

**Isaac nods.  “Boyd?” he supposes.**

**“That’s me.”**

**“Nice to meet you,” Isaac says, offering a hand.**

**Boyd seems to relax at the gesture, smiling more genuinely as he shakes Isaac’s hand.**

**“So no problem, right?” Boyd asks.**

**“Problem with?” Isaac wonders.**

**“Well, you’re the third roommate I’ve been assigned in the two weeks before move in,” Boyd replies.  “I’m not exactly the popular guy--even though you can be damn sure it’ll be easy to pick me out in the class picture.”**

**“Never been much for popularity either,” Isaac replies.  “I got in on a hope and a prayer at the last second anyway--well, that and a second mortgage on my foster parents’ house.  Not exactly planning to fit in with everyone here.”**

**“Stick together?” Boyd supposes.**

**“Yeah, stick together,” Isaac agrees, smiling at the fact that, at the very least, he won’t have to eat meals on his own.**

 

***************************

 

            **In the coming days it’s easy to see that Boyd and Isaac mesh pretty well. Isaac’s previous commitment to social justice finds a more targeted goal as Boyd brings him into the tumultuous world of the fight for equal civil rights,  a problem Isaac has always deemed too big a problem to try and solve, but two seconds talking to Boyd, and he realizes you can kind of change the world one case at a time--making sure the law works hard for the people who need it the most.**

**When he attends his first protest with Boyd and several of Boyd’s friends from SNCC Isaac feels at home in the sweeping tide of change attempting to shape the country into something better than it's been before; he might think it was his destiny if he believed in that kind of stuff.  Mostly he just focuses on passing his classes so he can eventually put into practice all the plans he and his best friend dream up for “one day.”**

 

**********************************************

 

            “Hey there, soldier,” Lorraine greets as she walks into the hospital’s common room where Derek sits silently on the edge of the activities that are supposed to be “good for him” according to the nurse.  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she tells him.  

He can hear the genuine tone in her voice and figures she’s smiling, though he doesn’t bother to look up at her.  Of course she’s happy to see him; she thought she was never going to see him again.  That had been the plan after all.  Enlist, head over to some godforsaken jungle half a world away, and die with honor instead of some cowardly wolfsbane bullet to the brain.

Except the universe has a particularly cruel sense of humor when it comes to Derek Hale.

“Doctors say you’re healing pretty well,” Lorraine goes on, pulling a chair over beside the wheelchair Derek’s condemned to.  “Not surprising of course, but they don’t know your medical history quite as well as I do.”

“Yeah, well, werewolf healing doesn’t grow back a limb,” Derek mutters, voice raspy from lack of use.  “Not when it’s blown to bits and scattered across a rice paddy.”

“Now, _there’s_ the unwavering optimism I missed so much,” Lorraine quips back.  “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?”

“Fuck you.  No one asked you to come here,” Derek growls.  

“You did, apparently,” she replies.  “I’m your next of kin in the records.”

“They wouldn’t let me leave it blank. Who the hell else was I going to write down?”

            _My whole damn family is dead because of me.  Because I fell in love with a fucking psychopathic hunter who burned them alive.  I don’t know why you would even come; you tried to warn me.  But I was too fucking stupid and lovesick to listen when a banshee gave a death warning.  I trusted Kate instead._

 _Guess the universe was right; I don’t deserve the easy way out,_ he broods, glaring down at his left leg--or what’s left of it, Now nothing more than a scar-covered stump that ends well before where his knee should be.

            “You’re getting discharged today,” Lorraine goes on.  “Did they tell you that already? You get to come--”

            “I’m not going back home,” Derek replies firmly.   “There’s nothing to go back to.”

            “There’s _me_ ,you asshole,”  she snaps, “and I talked to Dad.  We’re going to set you up in the guest house behind Manet Hall.  It’ll be perfect for a bachelor pad until you get back on your feet.”

            “Back on my feet?!” Derek thunders, finally looking her in the face as he feels his control evaporate and his eyes flare blue.  “Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Lorraine?! Look at me!”

            “I _am_ looking at you,” she replies, never shrinking back from the fierce response, “and it looks like you’ve had _plenty_ of time to enjoy your pity party.  Time to get back to the real world.”

            “Leave me alone.  Get the hell out of here.”

            “You’re coming back with me whether you like it or not.  You’re moving into the house at Manet Hall, and you’re going to pick up the pieces and get your shit together.”

            “Just _go_!”

            “Get up and make me,” she challenges, rising to stand in front of Derek’s chair, towering over him --the first person who’s looked at him without a trace of pity since he woke up in the field hospital.  

            “You know I can’t, you fucking bitch! Leave me alone!” he demands.

            “You’re right; you can’t! Because you won’t even _attempt_ to use the prosthetic they made you! Or work at physical therapy! Or do anything except sit in that fucking chair and sulk! Suck it up, buttercup! You’ve got work to do, and I’m not _nearly_ as tender-hearted as these poor nurses who’ve had to put up with your mopey ass!”

            “Is everything okay over here?” a nurse cuts in, clearly unsure if she really wants to tackle the wrath of either of them.  

“He’s fine,” Lorraine answers, “and we’re done discussing this.  You’re coming home with me Derek, like it or not,” she declares. “I’ll go finish up the paperwork,” she adds, turning on her heel and marching off.

“I can help you back to your room, corporal,” the nurse offers.   “If you want to pack up your things?”

“I’ll manage,” Derek grumbles in reply.  

She smiles as she walks away, no doubt because it’s the most Derek’s done for himself since he’s been here.  He’ll be damned if he’s going to let Lorraine see him slouching in the chair as a nurse pushes him around here.  Lorraine might think she’s the boss of him, think she can run right over him and call all the shots, but she’s got another thing coming.  He’s not just going to take all this shit from her.  He’s going to dish plenty back.

            They don’t speak again until they’re getting into the car.  Derek’s more clumsy than he’d care for Lorraine to see--probably because she’s right about him not bothering to try getting better.  When he finally settles into the passenger seat of the shiny blue corvette convertible, he mutters, “Helluva car, Lorraine; you’re not going to smash it to bits on the way home, are you?”

            “I’m an _excellent_ driver, Derek; don’t be a dick,” she replies as she shifts into gear and they leave the hospital behind them.  “And I _more_ than earned this baby; I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” she adds, running a hand fondly over the dash.  “Graduation present.”

            “Oh yeah,” Derek says.  “Congratulations.”

            “So nice of you to send such a heartfelt letter of congratulations, by the way.”

Derek had scribbled a note on a soggy bit of paper that just said “Knew you could do it, Lorraine; you’re gonna be a kickass lawyer” and sent it to her parents’ address. It had been bad enough that he’d left without saying goodbye.  He’d banked on being dead before graduation, but since he wasn’t, he felt like he couldn’t let the occasion pass without doing _something_.

“I really am glad you’re coming home,” Lorraine says when Derek doesn’t reply to her jab.  

“Glad enough to banish me to a guest house at the most haunted house in Louisiana?”

“Well with your current mood, you should fit right in with all the ghosts,” she supposes before reaching to turn up the radio to end the banter--at least for the next hundred miles or so.

 

*******************************************

           

Turns out the guest house needs fixing up almost as badly as Derek.  It’s a wonder he and Lorraine stay on speaking terms throughout the whole ordeal.  He has to admit he’s probably quicker to get back on his feet if only to spite her and make her leave him alone.  Of course, Lorraine knows him well enough to go after the angry response.  In hindsight, she played him like a fiddle to get him out of the hospital and back home; she probably knows how much he enjoys the little projects around the guest house and Manet Hall itself that make Derek feel like a competent human instead of a pathetic invalid.

Derek grew up in Verona, Louisiana.  His family’s been here for generations, and it was the tragedy of the town when the Hale family was killed in a freak fire—save “poor Derek” who was saved by “some miracle” of not being home.  They have no idea the Hale family actually fell prey to werewolf hunters or that Derek’s life being spared was much more of a curse than a blessing.  Add to that “tragic” past that he returned from service in the army having lost a leg and he’s got the unwavering pity of almost the whole damn town, which Derek _loathes_.  So as soon as he can walk without falling on his face, Derek’s determined to show everyone he can make it on his own.  

He starts by taking all kind of odd jobs around town--a little electric work here, some simple mechanic side-jobs at Mr. Alford’s shop, the various handyman tasks that get thrown his way by word of mouth.  Slowly but surely, instead of just being the “poor Hale boy” Derek is getting a reputation as a good, honest worker, and that reputation goes a long way.  All the old ladies in town have taken it upon themselves to be his adoptive grandmothers now— inviting him over for Sunday dinners he doesn’t want to go to but does anyhow, sending cookies on his birthday, and generally giving the illusion of the kind of family that Derek misses terribly.  He knows he doesn’t deserve anything half as good as what he’s got going--if they knew the fire was his fault or half the horrible things that happened in Vietnam…  

He guesses that’s why some people still give him plenty of space.  Or maybe they’re the assholes blaming the soldiers for everything that’s “wrong” with the war. Either way, Derek figures it’s about half and half people in town who would miss him if he left and who’d be just fine to watch him go.  The moment Derek realizes just how many people in this town really are rooting for him comes on an arbitrary Tuesday afternoon in the grocery store produce aisle when some smart-assed guy decides it’s the perfect venue to mutter to Derek something about being a “goddamned baby killer.”

“Excuse me?” Derek replies, forcing his voice to stay even as the man raises his head to glare at him straight in the face.

“You heard me,” he answers, and Derek recognizes him now: Kevin something-or-other --Claxton maybe?  “I said you’re a goddamned baby-killing, cowardly sonnuva bitch who--”

Before he finishes the insult, he’s knocked sideways by a right hook that, surprisingly, wasn’t Derek’s.  

“You watch your damn mouth,” Mr. Carter, one of Dad’s old friends, asserts, stepping between Derek and Kevin.  

When Kevin starts to swing back at Mr. Carter, Derek’s more than ready to push the older man out of the way and fight his own battles.  But it seems Mrs. Lynn has other plans as she whacks Kevin from behind with a cane while her usual partner-in-crime, Mrs. Phillips starts a sharp-tongued lecture about respect and honor and how ashamed the jackass should be of himself.

It’s maybe the most emasculating but heartwarming moment of Derek’s life.

And for the first time since he came back to Verona, Lorraine’s constant insistence that he’s “not alone” really rings true.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to remind y'all that this is historical fiction and as such some licenses have been/will be taken for the sake of time constraints and plot service. Hope you'll forgive us :)


	3. Chapter 2 - Summer 1963

**Chapter 2 - Summer 1963 (three years later)**

 

“So what’s the name of this poor soul that you suckered into renting this place?” Derek grumbles as he and Lorraine climb the front steps to the old plantation house, Manet Hall, that’s been in her family for generations.  

            “I didn’t _sucker_ anyone into it.  He’s a _friend._ I’m actually doing him a favor.  He needs a lot of space on a tiny budget.  He’s pretty damn excited that my parents are willing to rent this place for so little.”

            “Doesn’t he care that it’s haunted as fuck?” Derek asks.  

            Everyone around here gives the Manet Hall a wide berth, and even after three years, Derek still isn’t entirely thrilled that he’s the most recent resident of the guest house out behind it.  The main house puts him on edge in a way he can’t quite explain---some overwhelming combination of yearning and melancholy and horror that kind of makes him want to either puke or punch something.  He usually keeps to the gardens and the guest house.

Apparently dozens of soldiers from the civil war died and got buried near here--unmarked graves in the back of the Verona cemetery.  There’s been plenty of anecdotal support for the idea that the place is haunted: the fact that Lorraine’s grandmother went insane and was committed to some god-awful asylum near New Orleans until she died; the odd occurrences that led Lorraine’s father to abandon the family estate in favor of raising his only daughter in a more modern split-level built on the edge of the property nearest town; the dozens of sightings reported by trespassers over the years since.  

But what convinces Derek more than anything else is Lorraine’s word; after all, if anyone should know if a place is haunted, a banshee should, right?

            “Hopefully not,” she replies, shuddering as they cross the threshold.  

            “He hasn’t been here yet, has he?”

            “Not exactly.”

            “Lorraine, there is _no way_ this guy is gonna stay here once he--”

            “He can’t afford anyplace else like this.  He needs the space, the price and the general location. He’s just going to have to learn to live with some ghosts.”

            “What’s he using it for?”

            “He’s hoping to have someplace to do behind-the-scenes stuff for--um--stuff,” Lorraine replies vaguely.

            “You either just told me too much or too little,” Derek says.  “Is he one of the guys that gets tear-gassed at your rights rallies?” he guesses.  

            “They’re not _my_ rallies, Derek; there’s a movement going on and--”

            “I know; I know,” he interjects.  “But that wasn’t a ‘no’ so _is_ he one of your protest buddies, or what?”

“Yes,” Lorraine admits.  “Well, he’s a protester, too, but we’ve only ever been at the same march once.  He graduated Harvard Law, like me, and when I was up there to visit some old classmates we met--got to talking, ya know?”

“You put up his bail, didn’t you?” Derek supposes.

“I help lots of people post bail,” she deflects. “Look he’s a good guy; he wants to mostly keep his head down once he’s here, so it doesn’t ruin his chances of actually getting certified to practice in Louisiana. He passed the bar up in Massachusetts, but they really think they can do more good down here.”

“They? _They?_ ”

“Well, his best friend is going to help him start up this place.  What’s it matter to you if it’s one guy or two?”

“It doesn’t. I just…” Derek mutters, leaving the sentence hanging because he has no _legitimate_ protest.

“You hate new people,” Lydia finishes for him, “and change.”

Derek rolls his eyes at her, ignoring how correct her assertion is.  “I like peace and quiet,” he replies.  “Which is why I live in the middle of nowhere next to a haunted mansion.”

“They’re not going to have rallies in the back yard for Pete’s sake.  They just want someplace to have for a home base--some place big enough to board other lawyers, or activists, or just people who might need someplace to stay a while.  It’ll be nice to have something exciting to help with, you’ll see.”

            “Meaning you’re bored with just your Dad’s run-of-the-mill practice?” Derek supposes.  

            Lorraine’s brilliant, not that she ever really owns up to it.  She could rule the whole world if she wanted.  Instead she settles for wielding the words of the law like a battle sword and putting to shame half the seasoned male attorneys west of New Orleans.  If her father was disappointed not to have a son, he’s never shown it.  Plenty of people thought Lorraine was insane for attempting to actually get a J.D. instead of just an “MRS” at law school.  She shoved their sexism back in her face by graduating top of her class three years ago.  Derek never doubted her, and he’s still pissed at himself for missing the momentous occasion to get partially blown up in the Vietnam jungle.   Plenty of people in town thought he and Lorraine might get hitched when he came back.  They’re more siblings than anything though, born from growing up together in a town with just two supernatural families.   

“Dad’s getting enough flack having a woman in the firm,” she replies.  “I don’t want to start stirring things up on my own, but I’m happy to help Isaac and Boyd if they want.  The place is out of the way; the rent’s affordable; they shouldn’t be bothered; and I get to help,” she summarizes,  “plus it just _really_ seemed like the right fit.”

            “The right fit?” Derek repeats, raising a skeptical eyebrow and crossing his arms as he frowns.  “Banshee intuition?”

            “Something like that.”

            “Great.  Add another freak show to the town.  This should be fun.”

            “We’re not freaks.”

            “Sure we are,” Derek replies with a shrug, “but _we_ know how to handle it.  We don’t rent haunted houses in podunk towns and start stirring up trouble and--”

            “Maybe he’s not the trainwreck you think.”

            “And maybe he’s another pyromaniac, or psychopath,” Derek says bitterly.  

            “Not my job to be the well-loved champion of this town.  That’s you, hero,” she replies, teasing as ever the fact that despite Derek’s aversion to socializing he’s garnered the affection of most of the town.

            “Fuck off. I am not a damn ‘hero’.”

            “Maybe hero isn’t the best word--tortured, guilt-ridden unwilling pet is really more--”     

            “I hate you so much,” he mutters.

            “Sure you do,” she agrees with a roll of her eyes.  “Now help me get this place presentable enough to keep Isaac from turning tail the minute he walks inside.”

 

***************************************

 

            **“You’re insane,” Boyd says as they leave the main road.  “Your blind faith is leading us to die in some godforsaken bayou at the hands of some crazy redneck lynch mob that--”**

**“You’ve met Lorraine; we’ve worked with her before.  She posted our bail in case you’ve forgotten.  This place is going to be great.  You’ll see.”**

**“This place is _haunted_ ,” Boyd argues.  **

**“She didn’t say ‘haunted.’ She said ‘a little spooky.’ Don’t be a wuss. The history doesn’t matter.  It’s just--it’s the right fit, okay? I can feel it.”**

**“You’re insane,” Boyd repeats.**

**“It’ll be just what we need: seclusion, space to work, space to house people if we need it, local family that kind of vouches for us if we need it.  You’ll see.”**

**“Hope you’re right, man.  I don’t know how you convinced me to go along with this crazy ass plan. I can’t imagine the locals are going to be thrilled to have two civil rights lawyers, one of whom is a black man, setting up shop in their town.”**

**“You love this plan,” Isaac reminds.  “ _You_ were the one who brought it up in the first place.  Getting out of the chaos so we can work on the back-end?  Moving down south where we’re most needed? The movement needs people who know the law.  We need room to practice and grow that’s hopefully secluded enough to keep bricks from coming through the windows every day.”**

**“Yeah, well, that was before I thought you took my ideas so seriously.  Now I’m kind of thinking we’re in over our heads, and we haven’t even gotten started.  I’m just not so sure we know what we’re doing.”**

**_That makes two of us_ , Isaac thinks.  **

**“We’ll manage,” Isaac persists.  “This place is a good fit,” he repeats.  “Trust me.”**

 

***********************************************

 

Derek and Lorraine spend hours dusting, mopping, and airing out the old house.  She told Isaac it was “partially furnished” because there’s a hodgepodge of furniture around that she didn’t want to bother with moving.  Some of it is just outdated, like the hideous pea green sofa and arm chairs in the old parlor room.  Some she says have some sort of spirit attached, like the old mahogany wardrobe in one upstairs bedroom.  Derek’s attention keeps getting drawn to a rocking chair by the east wall of the parlor, and he can’t quite figure out why.  He finally gives in to the urge to sit in the chair a while, rocking back a bit and closing his eyes.  He’s both comforted and unsettled by how _right_ the move feels--like sinking into your own mattress after you’ve been someplace else for a night or two.

            “What’re you doing?” Lorraine wonders.  

            Derek’s eyes open sluggishly, like he’s waking from a dream, and it takes a moment for him to focus back on Lorraine’s words.  

            “I dunno,” he replies honestly.  “Just--felt like I should…” he lets the sentence trail off because he’s not quite sure what he “should” do anymore.  He’d thought it was the chair, but now it seems there should be a next step that he can’t figure out. “I dunno,” he repeats, rising from the chair.  “Nevermind.”

            “Are you okay? Tired or something?”

“I’m fine, just--is the chair haunted, too?” he wonders, frowning; usually he can at least vaguely sense something like that.

“No, it’s just ugly as sin,” she replies.  “Why?”

“Kind of--a feeling. I dunno,” he says as he eyes the chair suspiciously.  “This is why I hate coming in here. This place is creepy.”  

“Well, lucky for you, you scored the guest house.  Come on; shake the lead out.  Isaac and Boyd should be here any minute.   We still got a lot of work to do.  Start sweeping off the front porch.  I’m going to throw some cookies in the oven.”

“You _really_ want him to like this place, huh?”

            “He needs to rent this house,” Lorraine replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  “I told you; it’s a good fit.”

            “You sound pretty sure about that.”

            “Trust me.”

            Derek rolls his eyes.  “Sure, whatever.”

 

***************************************************************

 

            **“Yep, definitely haunted,” Boyd says when the old antebellum home looms into view.**

**Isaac can certainly understand the sentiment; the old house seems a bit foreboding, as they approach down a driveway lined with old oak trees, Spanish moss draping down through the branches.  But as he stops the car in the drive he also has the odd sensation of arriving home.  He takes it as a good omen overall.**

**“We’ll throw down some salt,” Isaac replies with a smirk, as he opens the car door.  “Or find a hoo-doo priest to lay some mojo on it.”**

**“You joke now, but just wait until the sun sets on this place.”**

**“Hey, you two!” Lorraine greets from the porch.  “How was the drive?”**

**“Not too bad,” Isaac replies.  “You weren’t kidding when you said it was off the beaten path, huh?”**

**“Nope,” she replied, “but I think we can use that as an advantage, don’t you?”**

**“Hopefully.”**

**“Come on in,” she bids.  “Let me give you the tour.”**

**Their footfalls echo in the entryway, and Isaac glances around the foyer for just a moment before the dark-haired man who enters from a side room commands his full attention.  Isaac’s stomach flutters when the stranger’s piercing green eyes meet his, and he can’t seem to look away.**

**“This is Derek Hale,” Lorraine introduces.  “Remember I said there was a friend of the family living in the guest house?”**

**“Uh-huh,” Isaac replies, still mortifyingly aware of how intensely he’s staring, and yet Derek doesn’t look away either.  “I--uh--kind of expected some feeble old lady based on the way you described the situation,” he admits.**

**The comment gets an amused smirk from Derek.  “Not quite,” he says, gravely voice sounding exactly like Isaac expected given his scruffy beard and well-worn t-shirt and jeans.  “Sorry to disappoint.”**

**“No--uh--not--not disappointing just--surprising.”**

**_Lorraine said the house came with a friend-of-the-family neighbor, not a ruggedly handsome mystery man.  Not that I’m complaining. At all.  In fact, I’m kind of wondering how this exquisite eye candy doesn’t cost extra._    **

 

***********************************************************

 

Derek catches Boyd staring at his bad leg more than once during the ‘grand tour’ Lorraine provides.  Isaac seems a bit more distracted with Derek’s face, constantly making eye-contact that would normally set Derek on edge, but doesn’t this time.  Instead, it ignites curiosity, and Derek would almost swear he’s met Isaac someplace before--even if just in passing on the street or something.  In fact, Derek can’t bring himself to stop looking back at Isaac, getting lost in the intensity of Isaac’s gaze.  He half expected some scrawny law nerd with thick glasses and a book always in hand by the way Lorraine described Isaac’s desire to work “behind the scenes.”  Instead Derek’s enjoying the messy blonde locks that frame Isaac’s unfairly angelic face.

            “The couch comes with the place,” Lorraine says as they walk back into the parlor to finish off the tour, “and that rocking chair, but there are some reasonably priced antique places in town if you want something a little more fashionable or elegant or whatever you want to call it.”

            “It’s already better than the furniture at our place,” Isaac replies.  “We’re happy for whatever we can get at this point.”

            “There are a few things in the attic over at the guest house,” Derek adds, his first words since the initial introductions, “if you want to have a look.”

            “Yeah, that would be awesome,” Isaac agrees readily with a smile too familiar and friendly to be warranted, but dazzling nonetheless.  His deep blue eyes met Derek’s yet again, and the smile widens.  “If you don’t mind,” he adds.

            “No problem,” Derek replies.  “Want to take a look now?”

            “Might as well, right?” Lorraine says.  “Bet I could even sweet-talk Derek into bringing the stuff you want over to the main house this week while you’re in New Orleans meeting and greeting and recruiting and whatnot.”

“Oh, no; we don’t want to be a bother,” Boyd replies, but he glances at Derek’s bad leg again as he says it, and Derek can’t help but feel a bit defensive.

“It’s fine.  I don’t mind.”

_I might be crippled but I can still move a damn chair or two.  I’m not helpless._

“Just come show us what you want brought over,” Derek goes on, moving to lead the way out the back.

As if the universe is intent on rubbing salt in his wounded pride, Derek’s prosthetic catches on the corner of the faded rug and he tumbles to the parlor floor before he can compensate and right himself.

_What the fuck is the point of werewolf abilities if I can’t even keep on my goddamn feet?_

“Derek? Are you okay?” Lorraine frets.

“Fine,” he grumbles in reply.

            Isaac offers him a hand up, and though Derek doesn’t want to take it, he also doesn’t want to seem rude.  He grasps Isaac’s hand, and in the next instant, the world around him disappears.

 

***************************************

 

**The moment Isaac’s hand touches Derek’s the surroundings vanish in a flash of white, and Isaac finds himself staring down at Derek’s still form in a blood-stained grey uniform.  Underneath his full beard, the sickly pallor gives away the gravity of the moment, and panic consumes Isaac completely.**

**He _knows_ down to his core that this is his fault--all his fault.  He never should have left, shouldn’t have joined up with the union, should have taken just one extra second to take in the face of the man he was aiming at before he pulled the trigger, should have gotten to him before the next four shots from his fellow soldiers ripped Derek’s torso to shreds.  He falls to his knees beside Derek as tears pour from his eyes and tries to get him to wake. **

**“No, Derek, this can’t be happening. You--you have to heal.  You’ll heal.  You’re okay, just--just heal, Derek. Come on!”**

**But Derek’s lost too much blood, and the torn stitches from other wounds, no more than a week old, show that his body’s been enduring too much abuse for a while now.  Every body has its breaking point, and Derek’s too far gone.  He’s dying--bleeding out on Mrs. Manet’s pretty parlor floor--**

**_And it’s all my fault._**

**** **“Derek, you can’t die; you can’t! Wake up, dammit!” Isaac demands, shaking Derek’s shoulders roughly in hopes of rousing him.  “Please, Derek, _please_ wake up! I’m so sorry, Derek! _Please_!”**

**Derek’s eyes finally flutter open, and he smiles, fucking _smiles_ at Isaac.  As though he’s just happy to see him.  As though Isaac didn’t walk away all those months ago.  As though Isaac didn’t shoot him in the gut hours ago and distract him from dodging the rain of bullets that followed.  As though--despite Isaac’s desperate attempts to convince himself otherwise--Derek really did love him back. **

**“Isaac,” Derek rasps, smile still on his blood-stained lips for another moment before Derek’s eyes flutter closed again and with a harsh, gurgling rasp he stops breathing altogether.**

**And then everything flashes white again, and Isaac’s standing in Lorraine Martin’s living room with tears on his cheeks and an overwhelming sense of relief at the sight of Derek rising easily to his feet.**

**“You okay, man?” Boyd asks Isaac.**

**“I--uh--yeah,” Isaac answers, letting go of Derek hand to wipe at the tears on his face.  “Just some dust in my eyes or something, I--I need some air for a second.”**

**_I think I’m losing my damn mind._**

**** **“I’ll come with you,” Boyd offers, clapping a hand on Isaac’s shoulder in what surely meant to be a comforting gesture, but it just sends the world into another flash of white.**

**The new scene quickly turns to black as a man in grey covers Isaac’s head with a sack, burlap scraping against his face as he struggles against the many hands trying to keep a hold on him.  They drag Isaac down the stairs and keep him moving though he stumbles.  The cacophony of hateful shouts all around him leaves no doubt this won’t end well.**

**_I should never have come. I should have stayed with our camp.  But I had to see him, had to know if--if I really--if he was dead and it was my fault. It was all my fault.  Oh God, Derek’s dead.  He’s dead.  How can this be happening? Oh God; oh, God; oh, God.  They’re gonna kill me, and maybe I deserve it.  Derek’s dead, and it’s my fault.  Oh, God._ **

 

****************************************

 

Growing up a werewolf still isn’t preparation enough for the jarring flash of the past that comes when Isaac helped Derek to his feet.  He manages to shake it off, but it’s clear Isaac is having a much more difficult time.  Maybe he saw something more unsettling than Derek’s quick glimpse of a blurry figure that looked like Isaac screaming Derek’s name.  

            “I need some air,” Isaac repeats, jerking away from his friend’s hand on his shoulder and all but sprinting for the back door.  Boyd follows after him calling Isaac’s name.

            Lorraine glances over at Derek and raises an eyebrow.  “What just happened?”

            “Not exactly sure,” Derek replies.  “It was a vision or something?”

            “Of Isaac?”

            “I think so, yeah.”

            “Which means he probably just got one of you?” she supposes.  “I was hoping whatever was going on would give him a couple days to warm up to the place before slapping him in the face with something supernatural.”

            “You know better than to hope for luck like that,” Derek replies moodily.  “I thought you sensed something about _him_ , not _me_.”

            “Well, we’ve both known you belonged here for years,” Lorraine answers dismissively.  “Isaac is a newer feeling, but I didn’t realize the two were connected to each other.  I figured it was just the house.  There’s always so much going on around this place; it’s hard to get a clear perception of the big picture. It’s not like there’s a manual for interpreting banshee vibes,” she goes on a bit defensively.

“So what now?” Derek wonders. “Think he’ll bail?”

“Not sure he could if he wanted to,” Lorraine replies with a sigh.  “He might try though.  Like you,” she adds with a roll of her eyes.

“Only took me six months to give up house-hunting other places,” Derek replies with a huff of mirthless laughter.  “Maybe he’s not as stubborn as I am.”

“ _No one_ is as stubborn as you are.”

“Pretty sure _you_ could give me a run for my money.”

Lorraine flips him off as she turns to follow Isaac and Boyd out the back door.   

“...really is fucking haunted or something?” Isaac’s asking as they walk out onto the wrap-around porch.  “I mean--”

“Just a lot of history,” Lorraine chimes in.  “Spooks some people,” she admits, “but you don’t scare that easy, do you?”

“Well--uh--I didn’t think I did,” Isaac replies.  “But that was--ah--something else,” he finishes vaguely, rubbing at his throat and tugging at the collar of his shirt to loosen it up.  “Did you see that?” he asks Derek.  “Or am I the only one going nuts?”

“Don’t think I saw as much as you,” Derek replies, “definitely weird though.”

“Understatement,” Isaac mutters.

“Maybe--uh--we take some time to think about it?” Boyd suggests to the group at large.  “Nothing has to be set in stone today, right? We’ve still got some people to meet in New Orleans and a couple other things to work out.”

“Take all the time you need,” Lorraine replies.  “I promise the place grows on you though.  It’s just got a lot of character.”

“Character?” Isaac repeats skeptically.  “Not sure that’s the word I’d use.”

“It’s not so bad,” Derek assures. “I’ve lived here more than a year now.  That’s the first time anything like that has happened.  Plus there’s plenty of space, good rent, decent neighbors,” he adds with a smirk.

This morning he’d been ready to subtly dissuade Lorraine’s potential renter; Derek wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having strangers for neighbors.  Now, he suddenly wants to say whatever it takes to keep them from backing out of the deal.

“Pretty good fit,” Isaac agrees quietly, eyes boring into Derek’s,“objectively speaking.”

 _Not sure there’s anything objective about this,_ Derek thinks. _I think there’s more working on this than we’ve seen yet, but that’s just a gut feeling._

“We’ll take the week in New Orleans to weigh out all the options though, if it’s all the same to you,” Boyd says, and Derek gets the impression he’s eager to talk to his friend without two strangers listening in.  “We’ll call and let you know if the plans change?”

            “Sure,” Lorraine agrees.   “No problem at all.  You guys want to take a look around the grounds? Get some more air?” she offers.

            “Mind if we show ourselves around?” Boyd wonders.  

            “Be my guest.  Derek and I will be around if you need anything. That little path there leads back toward the dock, but there’s plenty of creepy-crawlies in the bayou, so watch your step,” she says with a gesture to the path leading into the wooded area behind the house.  “That drive is back to the old barns and stuff, not much to see.  Wander all you want.  Take your time.”

            “Thanks.”

 

*******************************

 

            **“Okay, what really happened? You still look like you saw a ghost,” Boyd says once they’re well out of earshot on the path back through the woods.**

**Isaac stops walking and faces his friend, unsure how to even explain what he felt back at the house.**

**“Not saw a ghost,” he counters, “more like--like maybe I _am_ a ghost?”**

**“That makes no sense whatsoever,” Boyd says.  “You’re not a ghost; you’re--well, you’re _you_.”**

**“But I think what I saw was--was a different me,” he replies, “and a different Derek, too.”**

**“You said you saw a dying guy.  Like a nightmare? Something to scare you away maybe?  Maybe you’re right and it’s haunted?”**

**“The dying guy was Derek, and it wasn’t like a nightmare, not like a dream it was vivid, _too_ vivid,” Isaac tries to explain, pulling at his collar again because he swears he can still feel the rope burns around his throat.  “Like it _really_ happened and I just now remembered it.”**

**“That’s impossible.”**

**“I know; I know it sounds completely insane!” Isaac replies.  “Why the hell do you think it’s freaking me out?! It’s fucking impossible, but I’m seeing dead people or something, and--and to add another layer for nuts to the mix, it kind of seemed like Lorraine and Derek weren’t all that surprised?”**

**“Well, for starters, we don’t actually have to take this place.”**

**“Yeah, we do,” Isaac counters.  “It’s a better bargain that we could ever even hope for; it’s owned by people who generally support our cause; we can do a lot of good if we get an established office and headquarters set-up. It’s just a good fit.”**

**“You keep saying that; you and Lorraine both keep saying that. It’s creepy, man, not going to lie.”**

**“Maybe it’s fate or something,” Isaac says with a shrug.  “Or maybe it’s the start of a horror story.  I have no idea what the hell is happening.”**

**“I never _really_ bought into the whole haunted house thing; I was just giving you shit,” Boyd admits, “but now…”  **

**“Whatever happened, it’s not like it was _bad_ necessarily,” Isaac says.   “just unsettling.  Just _weird_. Not dangerous.”**

**“I still say we take the week to think about it. Maybe longer.  Doesn’t seem like this place is exactly prime real estate or we wouldn’t get this deal.”**

**“Yeah, sure; good plan,” Isaac agrees.**

**_But Lorraine’s right. We’ll take it.  It’s a good fit._**

**_Dammit I need to stop thinking that. It’s weird. This is all weird.  Way past weird even.  It’s fucking insane._ **

**_But I still genuinely feel like it’s a good fit.  How the hell is that possible?_ **

**_Maybe it really is fate? Or something?_ **

**_If that kind of thing even exists…_ **

 

 


	4. Chapter 3 - Summer 1963

Derek feels starts to feel on edge the minute Isaac’s car pulls out of sight, and the feeling only intensifies with time.  He tries to ignore it at first, busying himself with odd jobs around the house to get it spruced up a bit--planting some flowers in the beds along the front of the house, a fresh coat of paint on the porch railing. He thinks there might be some squirrels up in the attic and decides to go up and investigate- but when he opens the door to go in he gets goosebumps, and the heavy weight of some residual supernatural power in the room.

            “What the hell?” he wonders, immediately searching the room for clues.  

            There’s nothing up here but broken furniture and years of dust.  He can see from the tracks in the floor that he was right about the squirrels; but what really grabs his attention is the hint of black lines he sees in the places where the rodents’ tiny feet have cleared the dust.  He walks over to the corner where the marks are and bends to swipe away the dust with his hand.  After a sneezing fit that lasts a couple minutes, he looks down with watery eyes to study the pattern.  It’s an intriguing combination of triangles and circles; Derek doesn’t recognize it specifically, but it could definitely be tied to spellwork or an altar or something.  He takes another moment or two to memorize it so he can sketch it for Lorraine.  Maybe she’ll know something about it or maybe there’s something in the family books about it.

            Once he gets back home from evicting the vermin from Manet Hall, Derek shoves aside all the clothes in the closet to get at the box containing the twelve soot-stained volumes that are all that’s left of generations of lore lost in the fire.  He plops the box down on his kitchen table.  The acrid stench of ash assaults his senses as he removes the lid.  Derek starts to flip through the pages in search of the symbol.  The search is fruitless, but Lorraine’s got a much better library at her disposal.  

            Derek leaves the books on the table to head for the phone and give her a call.  A welcome breeze flows in through the screen door on the front of the house, and the stack of family documents Derek laid aside scatters across the hardwood floor.  They’re just old pictures and a few old letters and other odds and ends from years past.  Derek’s never paid much attention.  They were just shoved in the back cover of one of the books.  Now they’re scattered on the floor one aged, tattered photo grabs Derek’s attention, because his own face is staring up at him when he glances down at the image.

            “What the hell?” he mutters, picking it up and studying the scene more closely.

            It’s a family portrait, taken so long ago that everyone looks painfully somber.  He flips the photo over to see faded ink on the back indicating the inhabitants of the picture.

“Hale Family 1860,” he reads aloud, “Moira, Alexander, Laurence, Coraline, and Derek.”

He flips the photo back over to study the face again, hoping a closer examination will reveal more discrepancies, but given the shape of the eyes, set of the jaw, the nose, even the short, trimmed beard that’s only a bit longer than Derek’s now, Derek might as well be looking into a mirror.  He always knew that ‘Derek’ was a family name; Mom liked tradition, and all the kids were variations on names that came from generations before.  Now Derek’s thinking that in his case there’s a little something more than tradition being carried on.  This guy has his name, his face, and he would fit right in with the vision Derek and Isac shared a week ago.

Mostly Derek’s just waiting for someone to jump out and yell “got ya!” This is pretty fucking weird, even for his supernatural upbringing. He places the photograph back on the table and renews his trek to the phone to call Lorraine.  She answers on the third ring.

“Martin residence.”

“Hey, Lor, it’s me,” he says.  “Do me a favor?”

“Sure, what?”

“Could you come over?  I’ll trade you dinner for a little help researching some things.”

“You sound awfully eager,” she replies. “Researching what?”

“Um--don’t think I’m nuts,” he answers, “even though I might be.”

“Researching _what_?” she repeats.

“Reincarnation.”

 

***********************************************

 

**As unsettled as Isaac was by his first experience with the house, he hasn’t been able to get it off of his mind since the minute he left.  Something within him yearns to get back there; like it’s where he belongs somehow. Whatever’s going on, one thing's for sure: the house isn’t done with Isaac yet.**

**He of course doesn’t say that to Boyd; Boyd still seems a little on edge by the idea of moving into a haunted house.  Isaac should be _more_ on edge if anything, but mostly he feels like he’s going to snap with tension if he doesn’t get back there.  Instead of admitting the inexplicable need to get back to Verona, he just keeps reminding Boyd what a great start this will be.  He’s not _just_ blowing smoke; it really will take their efforts in the civil rights movement to a whole new level.  The activists they’ve connected with agree that an operation like the one Boyd and Isaac plan to set up could be a real asset down here.**

**They’d both love to have the house be a safe haven for people who need to get out of the thick of it--people who need a place to rest up after rallies, maybe some other students or graduates who’ll come down from law school, people scared to stay home and put their families in danger.  One of their professor’s favorite quotes had always been “The pen is mightier than the sword,” and Isaac is hoping that he can put his education to good use for a good cause.  It’s a way to contribute but be a little removed from the front lines.**

**Isaac used to think he’d rather be in the middle of the chaos, but one rally gone bad was enough for him.  He’s got too much of a temper and he’s sure not in a hurry to get tear-gassed and thrown in an overcrowded cell again--a claustrophobic’s nightmare.  Boyd is a much better presence than Isaac, stoic and strong when he needs to be; there’s just something about him that seems unshakable.  Isaac’s always envied that.**

**“You seem antsy,” Boyd says, as he joins Isaac on the Reyes’ porch.  Boyd’s friend from his undergraduate days, Erica, was kind enough to convince her family to put them up for the week.  “What’s up?”**

**“I dunno,” Isaac replies, stopping his pacing for the moment, “just kind of ready to be settled someplace, I guess; ya know, get to work.”**

**“You’re really excited about that place, aren’t you?”**

**“Yeah, I really am,” Isaac agrees, smile spreading across his face at the idea of their pet project finally coming to life.**

**“Think we can really take all this on? We’re barely certified lawyers.”**

**“We’ve got a give ‘em hell attitude,” Isaac replies.  “That count for something?”**

**“Hope so.”**

**“It was your idea to come down here after graduation, remember? Don’t start doubting us now.  Besides, I really think it’s going to be--”**

**“So help me God, Isaac, if you say “a good fit,” I’m taking you to a priest for an exorcism.  You’re freaking me out with that.”**

**Isaac rolls his eyes.  “Whatever.”**

**“You should call Lorraine tonight, tell her we’ll be headed their way soon.”**

**_Soon_ ** **, Isaac repeats silently, and he grins in anticipation of getting back to Manet Hall. _We’ll be there soon.  It’s going to be a great fit.  And we’ll be there soon._**

 

*************************************

 

Tension Derek didn’t realize he was holding relaxes away at the sight of Isaac’s beat up Oldsmobile coming down the drive.  It’s all he can do to keep the grin off his face.  He doesn’t want to creep the guy out by grinning like a maniac.  They’ve only met once.  There’s no justification for Derek’s happiness, but he doesn’t mind the sensation in the least. It’s not very often Derek feels like something is inherently _right_ with the world, and he’ll take the rare moment when he can get it.

“Hey, y’all.  Drive go okay?” Lorraine wonders as the goes down the steps to meet Isaac and Boyd with hugs.  Derek manages to retrain himself from going down to greet Isaac, waiting instead at the top of the porch steps.

“A lot less tedious than the drive down from New England,” Isaac replies.  

“Well, I’m glad you two’re back,” Lorraine says.  “I was worried we might’ve spooked you too much.”

“Nah,” Boyd replies.  “We don’t scare _quite_ that easily.”

Derek wonders if Isaac means to look up at him when he adds, “Yeah, you were right, Lorraine; this place is gonna be good.”

Derek can’t hold back the smile anymore at the words.  

 

****************************************************

 

            **Isaac thinks Derek’s smile might just be the best thing in the world, which is insane, because he barely knows the man.  Hell, he doesn’t even know if Derek’s into guys at all, much less Isaac specifically, and yet, he _knows_ Derek _does_ feel the same way.  It’s like a some gravitational force is pulling him in.  He just hopes it’s not a crash-and-burn scenario.  Derek descends the stairs after a moment more, just slightly off kilter as he adjusts for his bad leg, and Isaac fights the odd urge to meet him with a hug.**

**“Want some help with the boxes?” Derek wonders as Isaac and Boyd open the back doors of the sedan to start unloading.**

**“Very neighborly of you,” Isaac replies.  “Thanks.”**

**“Happy to help.”**

**Isaac reaches into the backseat for a box and turns to hand it to Derek.  Their fingers brush for just the briefest of moments, but it’s apparently enough to stir up whatever crazy magic psychic haunting stuff is going on with this place.  Everything flashes white, and Isaac finds himself in an entirely different scene, far from the house--far from anything by the look of it.  There’s nothing but woods around the two of them as he stares into Derek’s familiar but unfamiliar face.**

**“Don’t hate me; please?” Isaac says. “I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this, but--”**

**“No, I understand just fine,” Derek interjects darkly.  “I understand that you’re choosing some hypothetical,  idealistic future you think a big, bureaucratic government can give you over the your hometown and the people who care about you. Just the _thought_ of you going to fight for those goddamn yanks probably has Camden rolling over in his grave right about now.” **

**“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Isaac retorts.  “Cam is dead; you’re enlisting; there’s nothing left for me here but my worthless drunk of a father.”**

**“If you want to get out of here so bad, just come with _me,_ ” Derek urges.  “You can lie about your age to the confederates just as well as the yanks.  We’ll get in the same regiment. We’ll get out of here and--” **

**“And then what? What’re we going to do? _If_ we survive, you’re gonna come back here and marry whoever your family approves of, and I’ll be right back with my father! There’s no point in pretending there’s any real reason for me to stay around here, Derek! Don’t you get that?”  **

**“We’ll figure it all out.  We’ve been friends our whole lives, Isaac! _Best_ friends.” **

**“And if that’s not enough anymore?” Isaac wonders, eyes boring into Derek’s as the indirect declaration hangs in the air between them.  They’ve been living in fleeting, forbidden moments for years now, moments that aren’t enough to combat the hell of day-to-day life any longer, not for Isaac.**

**“We--we could figure something out,” Derek persists.**

**“You’re a fool if you actually believe that,” Isaac retorts, shaking his head.**

**“I believe that whatever we’ve got isn’t something you just walk away from,” Derek asserts with pain in his eyes as he borders on outright begging Isaac to stay.**

**Isaac almost gives in.  He almost abandons this outlandish plan and stays in this godforsaken life he’s endured for too long already.  But he would be staying just for Derek’s sake, and that’s not enough for Isaac.  Not when there’s no future that doesn’t involve Isaac sitting idly by as Derek Hale, cherished son of Verona, marries some perfect blushing bride and makes a life fit for some fairytale while Isaac endures endless years of misery with an abusive father and abysmal prospects for any way of bettering his situation.  He can stay, and have his heart broken over again every day; or he can walk away, let it shatter this once, and start building something new for himself.**

**“We don’t have anything but an impossible wish,” Isaac replies flatly.  “That’s not so hard to walk away from; not really,” he lies.**

**Derek’s pained expression hardens at Isaac’s dismissal, and his eyes flare gold, betraying his anger.**

**“If that’s how you feel, then go,” Derek snarls.  “Walk away, and don’t you _ever_ come back.  Leave here and join up with them, and you’re _dead_ to me, Isaac.”**

**Isaac shrugs his shoulders.  “No much else to say then,” he supposes.  “Goodbye, Derek,” he adds, and turns away before Derek can see the tears welling up in his eyes at the words.**

**He hears Derek start calling his name after a while, but he doesn’t turn around; he can’t.**

**_No looking back now.  The choice is made.  No looking back,_ ** **he reminds himself over and over and he puts as many miles as possible between himself, everything he’s ever known, and then only person he’s ever loved.**

 

*******************************************

 

            Only Derek’s werewolf reflexes keep the box he and Isaac were holding from crashing to the ground.  He can feel the tears on his own cheeks and notes that Isaac looks just as shaken and miserable in the wake of the vision.

            “Damn,” Derek says quietly.  

            “You--you saw that too, didn’t you?” Isaac asks.

            “Yeah.”

            “Saw what?” Boyd interjects.  “Not haunted vision stuff again?”

            “Something like that,” Isaac confirms.

            “Maybe I spoke too soon about us not scaring easily,” Boyd replies, with a worried glance over the top of the car at his friend.  “That’s not exactly a great sign for--”

            “I’m fine,” Isaac dismisses.  “It’s fine.  No big deal.”

            “You sure? We could--uh--”

            “It’s fine,” Isaac repeats, “just keep--uh--keep unloading.  I need a minute.”

            Maybe Derek shouldn’t, but he follows Isaac as he walks away from the house, down the sloping front lawn and toward a cluster of oaks draped in Spanish moss.  There’s an old cement garden bench there, and Isaac plops down on it, running a hand over his face as he draws in a shaky breath.

            “It was you,” he says, looking up at Derek with a hint of panic in his eyes.  “That vision was of you, and--and I was there too, but--but that’s not possible. It’s some weird hallucination or something.  It can’t _actually_ be us. It’s totally nuts.  It makes no sense.”

            “Well, Lorraine and I kind of have this--uh--working theory,” Derek replies.

“Theory of what?”

“That maybe this isn’t the first time you and I have met.  That we’ve been in this house before.  We’ve known each other--for a long time I think.  Right? You feel that?”

            _Please tell me you feel it, too.  Because there’s no way I can really explain it._

“I feel--I don’t know what I fell, but whatever it is--it’s not possible,” Isaac repeats. “You can’t seriously believe that--that what? We’ve got like a past life here or something? How can you even think that’s possible?”

            “Call me open-minded I guess,” Derek answers.

            “Open-minded?” Isaac scoffs.  “Not sure that’s the word I’d use for this.”

            “You think we’re just losing our minds?” Derek supposes.  “Fair guess, but there’s a couple things you should know before you totally throw out the explanation me and Lorraine came up with.”

            “Okay then, convince me,” Isaac challenges.

            “The open mind concept is pretty key in this whole thing,” Derek hedges, “just go with me for a minute.”

            “Sure.  Can’t be any crazier than ghost visions.”

            “I was in the attic yesterday, putting up some screen so nothing can get in the vents up there, and I found a symbol on the floor, the kind of symbol you use to make an altar for a spell.”

            “A spell?” Isaac replies, raising his eyebrows in apparent skepticism.  “Like magic?”

            “Yes, for magic,” Derek replies.  “Lorraine’s family--they--” Derek searches for the right word, “they dabble,” he says finally.

            “They dabble in magic?  Yeah, right.  She’s a lawyer by day, witch by night,” Isaac scoffs, but Derek doesn’t laugh with him.  After a moment or two Isaac asks more somberly, “She really is?”

            “Well, not--not exactly, but that’s--she’s not the point.  The point is that about a hundred years ago, Lorraine’s great-great grandmother was the woman of the house here, and it looks like she might’ve been practicing some spells in Manet Hall, so if you believe for two seconds that magic isn’t just something that happens in fairytales, it starts to explain what’s going on with us.”

            “We’re under a spell? Derek, do you hear yourself?” Isaac demands, rising to his feet.

            “I know I must sound insane, but hear me out.  After I saw the symbol on the floor, I started looking through my family’s books to see if--”

            “So your family tried magic and hoodoo and stuff too?”

            “Not exactly, it’s--the conversation about why I have those books is a whole other can of worms.  One insane story at a time.  The important thing is that a picture fell out of a book, and it’s _me._ ”

            “Family resemblance is a really common phenomenon, Derek.  It doesn’t mean that you’re a fucking reincarnation.  That’s not possible!”

            “No?” Derek wonders, “Then explain how the hell we’re sharing visions of events that happened a century ago! The picture isn’t just some ancestor I favor; he looks _just_ like me, Isaac, and his name was Derek, and--”

            “It’s not possible.  It’s just not,” Isaac persists.

            “Then explain how--”

            “I don’t know,” Isaac interjects, “but we’re not--it’s not anything to do with magic spells and witches and reincarnation! There’s no such thing, not really.”

            “Would you just _think_ about it for _one_ second without--”

            “Without letting insanity take over the logic?” Isaac retorts.  “Derek, you can’t honestly expect me to believe all this.  There’s some other explanation; we’ll just have to figure it out.”

            “Everything okay over here?” Boyd wonders, intruding on the conversation; Lorraine is right behind him, clearly intent on joining the conversation as well.  

Derek bites his tongue to stop from snapping at Boyd to mind his own damn business. the guy’s got every right to check on his friend.  They’ve known each other for years; Derek’s technically only known Isaac a week.  

            _But it’s more than that.  Why doesn’t he see it? Can’t he feel it?_

“Yeah,” Isaac replies, “I think Derek’s imagination is maybe getting the better of him.”

            “It’s not just my damn imagination!” Derek protests.  “You’ve seen what I’ve seen.  You know something is going on here.  You just don’t like my explanation.”

            “That I’m a reincarnated civil war soldier?” Isaac retorts.  “Excuse me if I find that explanation a little difficult to grasp.”

            “Reincarnation?” Boyd repeats.  “Seriously?”

            “It’s not as nuts as it sounds,” Derek replies.  “If you take the whole story, then--”

            “I think we might be past the point of explaining,” Lorraine chimes in.  “Maybe a demonstration might catapult the conversation a little farther?”

            “Don’t jump the gun, Lorraine,” Derek counters.

            _Not everyone should be trusted with our secrets.  Not everyone handles them well._

            “You two are _sharing visions_ ,” Lorraine replies.  “It’s only a matter of time before the rest of it comes to light.”

            “Rest of what?” Isaac wonders.  “Haunted house; witchcraft; reincarnation, and you’re telling me there’s _more_ weirdness to talk about?”

            “I told you we were moving to a damn horror movie set,” Boyd mutters.

            “You didn’t really think that,” Isaac protests, “but I’m starting to wonder if maybe you were right.”

            “Hey,” Lorraine scolds, “rude!”

            “Rude? _That’s_ your response?”

            “I thought you two would be a bit better at not judging a situation before you fully understand it.  You’re intelligent, open-minded individuals.”

            “Open-minded, sure.  Not insane,” Boyd replies.

            “Just give us a chance to broaden your horizons a bit before you totally dismiss our theory for what’s going on,” Lorraine requests.  “Derek?” she prompts.

He hesitates, unsure that he’s willing to reveal his secret to Isaac and Boyd already.  As much as he inherently wants to trust Isaac, this isn’t the first time they’ve brought an outsider in on the secret.  And it rarely ends well. There’s no way to predict what horrible ending this conversation might have: Isaac and Boyd might think the house is making them lose their minds and bolt; they might think Derek’s a dangerous monster and bolt; they might think it’s too much trouble to deal with all the supernatural bullshit and bolt…

Derek’s got no attachment to Boyd.  But the idea of Isaac leaving puts an unpleasant, hollow feeling in Derek’s chest.  But there’s a worse possibility:   _Maybe_ _he stays, and betrays all of us._

As if Lorraine can read Derek’s thoughts she reminds softly, “He’s not Kate.”

“You don’t know that,” Derek replies.

“Who’s Kate?” Isaac wonders, but Derek ignores the question.

“You _do_ know that, though,” she tells him.  “You’ve seen--”

“I don’t _know_ anything! I just got a couple of visions.”

“I thought you had a good feeling about all of this?” Lorraine says.  “We’ve all talked about the sense that this was something that was meant to work out.”

“Yeah, but—I don’t know if I trust it.”

“It’s better if they know,” Lorraine insists.  “And it’ll move this whole conversation a lot farther a lot faster.  You should just show them.”

_I sure hope you’re right._

*********************************************

**_How the hell did I manage to get myself involved with a haunted house and two raving lunatics?_ ** **Isaac panics silently as Derek and Lorrain continue to argue.**

**“We should at least _try_ to just tell them first,” Derek says.  “It’s kind of shock to just--”**

**“For the love of God, would somebody just say or do _something_ instead of the cryptic fussing?” Boyd interjects, and it seems Isaac isn’t the only one losing patience with this whole scenario.**

**“Fine, but you’re not going to believe me,” Lorraine replies.  “Derek’s a werewolf; I’m a banshee.”**

**“A banshee?” Isaac repeats dumbly, “and a _werewolf_?!”**

**“That would be correct.”**

**“There’s no such things,” Boyd asserts.**

**“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”**

**“Maybe because you just claimed you two are both mythological creatures! What the _hell_ Lorraine? You thought we were just going to—to what? Roll with it?”**

**“Well, yes,” she answers simply.  “After a little while to process obviously.”**

**“This is nuts,” Boyd says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Absolutely _nuts_.  A house that’s a little creepy and a couple of weird hallucinations does not mean that the whole world is full of monsters and shit!”**

**“‘Monsters’ is a little harsh,” Lorraine chastises.**

**“Death predictors and rabid mutant dogs?! Sounds pretty damn monstrous to me,” Isaac retorts, agreeing with his friend, but the momentary, wounded wince in Derek’s expression at the words stops Isaac’s righteous indignation in its tracks.  “I just mean—it’s—kind of freaky shit you’re talking about.  Not that—I don’t think _you two_ are monsters.  You’ve saved my ass more than once, Lorraine, and Derek you—you seem—you’re—I don’t think you’re a monster,” Isaac finished lamely, unable to articulate _what_ it is that he feels for Derek right now.**

**“It’s fine,” Derek says dismissively though he retreats back from Isaac a few steps and moves to stand at Lorraine’s side.  “You’re entitled to your opinion.”**

**“Please tell me you two are just pulling some prank to fuck with us. Hazing the new neighbors?” Isaac says hopefully.**

**_God, it would be so wonderful if we could just stop the insanity right now._ **

**“Not a prank,” Derek replies.  “Every bit as real as these visions we’ve got going on.  All kinds of supernatural shit is out there, whether you want to believe it is or not.”**

**“This is why I told you they’d need a demonstration,” Lorraine says to Derek who frowns deeply at the reminder.**

**“A demonstration? From the werewolf?” Boyd says. “But it’s not even the full moon so--”**

**“It doesn’t work like that,” Derek replies.  “That’s just--an exaggeration.”**

**“Oh, _just_ an exaggeration,” Isaac repeats.  “Do you two even realize how ridiculous this all sounds? You’re acting like we’re chatting about the most casual stuff, but--”**

**“We grew up with this ‘ridiculous’ stuff,” Derek interrupts.  “It _is_ casual for us.   _You two_ on the other hand need to give yourself five minutes to process.   _I_ am going to be productive and unload the car,” he adds, leaving no room to argue as he turns on his heel and leaves the other three to head for the car.**

**“Deep breaths,” Lorraine advises.  “Maybe you should sit back down.”**

**“Pretty sure it’s gonna take a lot more than that.  You had to wait until we’ve got everything lined up to start a base down here before you started babbling about all this supernatural stuff?” Isaac grumbles.  “Really, Lorraine?”**

**“I do not ‘babble’,” she replies coolly.  “I told you two simple facts, and you reacted badly.  That’s not my problem.”**

**“Simple facts,” Boyd replies.  “Yeah, sure.”**

**She shrugs.  “Look, we both know the reason you two aren’t back in the car and halfway out of town already is that Isaac’s drawn to this place and to Derek.   Something supernatural is going on with you and Derek, so you might as well know as much as you can now instead of later.”**

**“How do you know anything about what I feel about this place? You a psychic, too?” Isaac scoffs.**

**“It’s more like I’m a psychic who happens to be geared toward death and things.”**

**“Death and things, fucking great, just the kind of stuff you want to know about.”**

**“And I know by the feeling I get in my bones that this place is _right_ for you,” she replies unwaveringly.  “I felt the same way about getting Derek settled in here a couple of years ago.  I wasn’t wrong then.  I’m not wrong now.  You belong here, Isaac.”  **

**_It’s the right fit,_ ** **Isaac adds silently, the automatic thought more unsettling than ever.**

**“Why us?” Isaac wonders.**

**“Well, I sure as hell don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s going down in a house owned by a family of banshees,” Lorraine replies.**

**“So your great-great grandmother, you’re saying she did all this? Cursed us or something?”**

**“Not a curse,” Lorraine corrects, clearly offended.  “What the hell kind of family do you think I’m in?  It’s just--it’s a _spell_.  It’s different.  If she cast it, she was trying to help.”**

**“Help what?”**

**“Bring you back I think. The symbol on the floor of the attic is the base for a reincarnation spell.  I think it’s what draws you both back to the house.”**

**“That’s not possible.”**

**“Godammit, Isaac,” Lorraine huffs.  “We’re explaining the best we can, and it doesn’t help one bit for you two to dig your heels in every step of the way.”**

**“Then show us something,” Boyd bids.  “Like you said before.  It’ll move this whole thing forward.  Give us a little proof.”**

**Lorraine sighs, turning back toward the car.  “I know you’re listening,” she says, voice raised only a little though Derek’s all the way across the yard fetching a box from the trunk of the car.  “Come on.  Just your eyes or something.”**

**Derek turns, apparently having heard everything Lorraine said, and resolutely trudges back toward the group.  They start toward him, meeting him in the middle of the yard.**

**“Fine,” he mutters, and for just a moment or two, his eyes flash a bright, breathtaking shade of fluorescent blue.**

**“Holy shit!” Boyd exclaims, mouth dropping open as he takes a step back.**

**“They’re blue,” Isaac blurts.**

**“Those the fantastic skills of deduction that got you two through law school?” Derek replies.**

**“Its’ just--weird,” Boyd says.  “Come on, man.  You gotta know that’s not exactly something you see everyday.”**

**“It’s _exactly_ what I see everyday,” Derek points out.  **

**“But why are they blue?” Isaac repeats, still distracted.**

**“It’s a werewolf thing,” Derek answers dismissively.  “Consider it your demonstration for now.”**

**“No, but they were gold before,” Isaac says, “when I saw them in the vision, they were gold.”**

**“Well, they’re not anymore,” Derek says tersely.  “It’s not important,” he adds, turning away to go back to the car.  His body language tells a different story, that something about that change is _very_ important.  But Derek’s also clearly frustrated with this whole situation, so Isaac decides the topic can wait.  **

**“Come on.  We should get all the boxes in before dark,” Derek calls back over his shoulder.  “This conversation can continue tomorrow.  Assuming you two get past your stubbornness and stick around.”**

**“Good idea,” Lorrain agrees.  “Enough arguing for one day.  You two take some time to process,” she says before walking off to join Derek.**

**“Isaac, what the hell did we walk into?” Boyd wonders quietly.**

**“Well, it would seem that the great-great-grandmother of our friend and fellow activist who is also apparently a banshee cast some weirdo reincarnation voodoo stuff to hitch me to a werewolf,” Isaac summarizes.  “And here we thought practicing law was going to be the biggest challenge of moving down here.”**

**“Yeah, who doesn’t want to add some supernatural insanity complications to their lives,” Boyd replies.  “You can be damn sure there won’t be a dull moment if we _do_ through caution _entirely_ to the wind and actually stay here.”**

**“No hum-drum ordinary life to be found here,” Isaac agrees with a sigh.  “Great.”**

**_Just fucking great._ **

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue and first two chapters will be up in quick succession. After that, there will be a new chapter posted when schedule permits.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> If you're ever in the neighborhood, you can VS on tumblr as vague-shadows.


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